Survivors BBC Fanfic Nightmares and Naivety
by ObsessedFanstar58
Summary: Abby wakes up the morning of her son's twelfth birthday after she's had a horrible nightmare. Greg gives her a much needed reality check before she sets out on her own. Spoilers for Episode 3. Rated T, just to be safe. 3 chapters -- Completed!
1. Chapter 1: Leader De Facto

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_Author's Note: Here is my first Survivors BBC fanfic series: Nightmares and Naivety. Of course, nothing here belongs to me. The characters, settings, episodes, etc., is all property of Terry Nation, his publishers, as well as BBC and the respective owners of the show. No copyright infringement is intended._

_Well, I hope you like this, and thanks for checking it out! Constructive Reviews are always appreciated!_

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Survivors BBC - **Nightmares and Naivety**, Part I

"Leader De Facto"

Abby Grant sat in her sofa bed with a start, breathing heavily with beads of sweat tarnishing her furrowed brow. Her sudden wake was much to the surprise of Gregory Preston, who had obviously thought her sound asleep as he'd carried the glass of water he'd been seeking. Now that it was now all over him, and he'd have to get another one, he figured he might as well talk with his fellow survivor and new friend, and find out what had frightened her so.

"Christ, Abby," he whispered as loud as he could without waking the others, "I swear that is not natural." Surely he didn't imagine that severely disappointed look on her face…She had expected Peter.

Since Abby was still pursuing her relentless search for her son, Peter, she had situated herself right in the foyer of the house, where she'd be sure to hear any little noise coming from outside, especially should that noise belong to a person, which it mostly did not. She had told the others it was to protect them, but she refused to let one of the men sleep there, because they were too valuable and would become tired by constantly waking in the night. Just to humour the one-in-a-million chance that eleven year-old Peter had survived the virus, was still alive and well, and would drop by their house out of all of them in the GB.

Now Abby forced herself to laugh, and distractedly began tracing the intricate needlepoint pattern on her sheet with her wedding ring finger, managing a, "Well, I suppose it is natural, it's only mother's instinct after all. It must be heightened by the fact that I know Peter's still out there and needs me."

Greg smiled ruefully, not having the heart to tell her about the less than one percent chance that Peter was still out there, fit and healthy. Abby was convinced that he survived the virus, because she had, but the boy suffered from leukemia and likely had a very weak immune system. He could also tell, though he hadn't known her that well, that Abby was not telling the truth about what had scared her. "Have you been having that dream again? I thought they stopped a while ago." In reality, it had been weeks since Greg had gotten up to get a glass of water during the night. Maybe they had never stopped, and that would explain the dark abyss of rings under Abby's eyes, her lack of energy, and her shorter temper, even for Najid.

Abby's breathing returned to normal and she wiped her brow with the sleeve of her pajamas before looking Greg straight in the eyes to feign confidence. "I…they have stopped. I'm fine, honestly, don't worry about me. I wanted to wake up early to get breakfast on anyway." She moved her legs so they faced the front door, shuffled onto her feet, and with her back to Greg, started fixing the sheets on the sofa so it looked as if she had never been there.

Greg rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud, Abby, it's three o'clock in the morning." She obviously didn't know what time it was.

Abby stopped point blank before turning back to face Greg. Smiling weakly, as though defeated, she told him, "Well, I'm going to make it really good with the time I have then. I think I'll go out and get a few things first."

"I'll go with you. You shouldn't be wandering around town on your own in the middle of the night."

"Do you not think me capable enough to go on my own? I'll be just fine. I'll be back before you even notice I've gone." Abby said this righteously, in an air that suggested she had been offended. She'd finished the bed, and turned to leave. She sought out her boots and found them just as then Greg grabbed her arm and held it firmly without letting her go.

"Oh for Christ's sake Abby, I didn't want to say this, but I have to." He relaxed on her arm a bit when he knew she was listening. She was so hard-headed, when she was on a mission, it was close to impossible to bring her back to earth and tell her something that didn't pertain to her plan.

"Abby," he warned, his dark brown eyes meeting hers. Her eyes were hard to describe because they would change so much. They were a piercing ice blue when she was mad, but a calm teal when she wasn't. Right now Greg wished they had some emotion in them, instead of the sullen grayish blue they were now.

"Don't do anything you'll regret. You obviously don't know this…but you've been silently nominated as the leader de facto of all of us. Everyone looks to you to make decisions, they yearn for your opinions on matters before going forward, they covet your advice and crave your guidance. Everyone needs a leader, Abby, and you're it."

Greg stopped to let these words sink in and was not surprised to realize that Abby hadn't noticed her value to the others. He knew it frightened her, to have so much responsibility and to not even have known it. Her eyes were pools of desperation, because she knew she couldn't do it alone.

Greg spoke again, "We are all connected now, and I guess that means we are all each other's world now. But if we lose you, it's more than losing a simple link in the chain. If we lose you, like a domino effect, we will all fall. With you gone, I don't know what will happen. So watch yourself. Don't take any risks, and make sure you get back here, safe."

Abby listened dutifully without blinking to Greg's speech, but found she couldn't make eye contact with him now. If she'd allowed herself to cry, she would have right there. _Leader? Me?_ Before the virus took everything away from her, Abby had been, well, normal. The typical middle class stay-at-home mom, due to Peter's constant relapses. Never did anything unexpected, anything that wasn't right. Her world had pretty much revolved around Peter, since the day he was born…Twelve years ago today. She wasn't used to having all these people depending on her. Abby worried whether she would truly be able to live up to this responsibility of caring for everyone...

Abby reached out and squeezed Greg's hand, willing herself not to cry. Instead, she smiled again, to his annoyance, and told him, "Thank you. But I really need to be by myself today. I really do. I'm sor - I'm really sorry, but --"

"--Yeah, okay Abby," Greg cut her off impatiently and pulled away, "you just do what _you've_ got to do."

"I'm sorry Greg, you really do have every reason to be angry with me…"

"--Abby, how can you be this naïve? Is it really worth it?" Greg hadn't meant for those words to come out so mean. He suddenly wished he could not only take back the words, but that he hadn't gotten up to get that glass of water in the first place.

Abby swallowed nervously and inhaled a breath sharply, obviously shocked and hurt by Greg's words. She began to nod slowly, as a few awkward beats passed in the silence enveloping the two of them. Greg sighed, and began to apologize, but Abby cut him off.

"Yes, Greg. It is worth it. Because these 'naïve' fantasies I have give me something to live for. If my son is still out there, I will do everything in my power to find him. As long as I have hope, he's alive, and so am I."

Greg nodded grimly, and apologized again before he was again interrupted, this time by a scream coming from upstairs.

Abby closed her eyes and sighed. _Naj. _Whispering out loud, she mostly explained to herself, "He told me he was okay, that he wasn't having those nightmares anymore. The recurring one, when he is trapped under the bodies of his mum, dad, cousins in Blackburn, family he never knew...and he used to wake up sobbing, about an old man and Al, as well. I don't know what that was about though...Naj needs me now." She turned around and started tiptoeing up the steps towards eleven year-old Najid's room.

He was about the same age as Peter was, and reminded Abby of him in so many ways. Stubborn, yet playful and compassionate. Except Peter had grown up privileged and well off, and Naj grew up working as an adult to help support his family who depended on him. Naj was so brave and very reasonable and responsible, at times, more than some of the adult survivors. Abby realized that while she hadn't exactly used him to replace Peter, she had sort of adopted Naj in her mind as another son, another boy who needed her.

She was at the doorway when she heard murmurs, "Mum...Mum..." and then, "Abby...Abby..."

Abby lightly stepped into Naj's room and sat on his bed. Less than a second passed before he threw his arms around her and didn't even cry or talk. Abby held him tightly too, feeling as if she never wanted to let him go. Naj embraced Abby as if she was the mother he'd lost, and Abby pretended she finally held her own son in her arms.

They fell asleep that way too, undisturbed for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2: Chicken Army

_Author's Note: This one is less about Abby, and more about Naj. I do love him, he's adorable. =) Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like the next chapters. I love it when people read my fics, but it really makes my day when people review too. I welcome constructive reviews with open arms, I could always use some advice._

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Survivors Fanfic - **"Nightmares and Naivety" **Part II

"Chicken Army"

Abby eased herself into the driver's seat of her hardy green jeep and took a deep breath. As she let it out slowly and calmly, Abby felt immediately grateful to be by herself right now. It was only a few minutes before dawn, but Abby knew that it was going to be an emotionally draining day. Her son, Peter, was twelve years old today, December 2nd. He was now officially on the brink between boyhood and impending maturity, but still young. Before even putting the car in gear, Abby paused and let her mind reflect back to the past...scenes from the day she found out she was pregnant, to the day he was born alive six weeks early to everyone's surprise, to the day she proudly held him for the first time, his first steps, his first word, and onwards flooded into view...

Abby was suddenly hit with an unexpected rush of emotion and wept inconsolably due to the fact that she was not there to wish her little boy a happy birthday, let alone hold him close to her and tell him he meant more to her than anything in the whole world. When she looked up to see Greg standing by the house with a questioning look on his face, she did not even try to smile to ease his concern. She merely wiped her tears away hotly with the sleeve of her shirt and drove off in no particular direction.

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The chickens had escaped again. Najid stealthily crept up behind the unnamed chicken, who was busy preening his feathers, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being stalked. Hmm, Diva, Madonna, Prince, King, Majesty, Duke would all be suitable names for this chicken...Quick as a flash, Naj, gently but firmly scooped the usually evasive chicken up in his arms, and carried him downstairs.

Anya grinned at Naj, she couldn't help it; he held the chicken as if it was the most precious thing in the world to him. "Hey Naj, did you sleep okay?" she asked, plopping a golden piece of toast upon the plates around the table.

Naj smiled at Anya politely without a word, and turned to the newly repaired chicken habitat where two very stupid chickens had just wandered back into. He set the chicken he was holding down gently, and decided that his name was going to be Prince, due to the way he held himself: poised, prim, as if he owned the world, unaware of the obstacle that he was only a chicken.

Anya nodded grimly to herself. She knew Naj well enough to know that he had not replied because he didn't want to lie (it was a sin) and tell her that he slept well when he clearly didn't. But Anya wouldn't press him. If he wanted to tell her what was bothering him, she wanted him to tell her himself, not because he knew that she had suspected something because she'd heard him scream out in the night.

Naj sat at his usual seat which was across from Anya and beside Al, who absolutely had to sit in the chair with the largest cushion, which just happened to be across from Sarah and the furthest away from Tom. Naj looked up at Anya with a trace of admission and defeat in his eyes.

"Well, actually, Anya..."

"Mm-hm?"

"I've been having these nightmares lately. They're nothing really to worry about, but I wake up at night a lot." Naj assured her, earnestly.

Anya nodded sincerely, and felt a rush of concern for the boy. "I'm sorry to hear about that, Naj...Have you been talking to someone about them?" Anya's therapeutic doctor mode was poised to strike, depending on Naj's answer.

Naj nodded, and Anya relaxed. He explained briefly what they were about. The boy had actually wanted to tell Anya a long time ago, when they first started, right after the virus. He was pretty sure she could hear him screaming at night, and didn't want her to worry to the extent that Abby already did. He also worried Anya would think he was a baby, but if she'd known already...

"Now, it's only you and Abby that know. I would tell Al, but he's preoccupied with his own nightmares. You know, the one where he's lined up for caviar, dressed in rags, and then he gets to the end and realizes he doesn't have enough money."

Anya laughed. "Poor Al. It's good that he can at least confide in you."

Naj snorted. "It's not really confiding if he's been telling everyone that will listen. He hasn't told you?"

Anya shook her head. "Nope."

Naj shrugged. "Poor Al's scared out of his mind, of Tom, his nightmares, and 'cause he's realized he's become one of the common people. Having to leave his hundred grand car behind and all nearly killed him. Now he's decided the world's out to get him. If he were a true Muslim, he would know that God is always good, and knows exactly what he's doing."

Anya considered this. "Did you tell that to him?"

Naj nodded fervently. "He said whatever God's plans are, he's keeping them to himself."

Anya stifled a laugh, and turned it into a cough. Naj was really religious, and she didn't want to offend him like Al had, even though what Al had said was kind of humourous.

There was a scuffle around the stairs, and Anya turned to smile brightly at Tom, and Greg, who followed a few moments later. They both took their respective seats, and looked around at the table.

It was not surprising that Al and Sarah were not at their usual places, for they were usually the last to rise. A little unsettling to the others was the absence of Abby, who usually made breakfast for everyone at the crack of dawn, though nobody knew that she got up after awakening from her own nightmares.

Naj was the one who asked the question out loud. "Anya, where's Abby?"

Anya shrugged and opened her mouth to answer just as Greg sighed in frustration. "Damn, I forgot." Putting down his fork and swallowing his toast, he rolled his eyes and continued, "she's gone. Probably something to do with her son. With Abby, it always is."

"Maybe she got sick of us, and left last night," suggested Sarah a bit too hopefully. She had just joined the dinner table with Al, who had a sheepish look on his face.

Naj gave her a withering stare. "She wouldn't just leave. And if she did, there's no way she'd leave without saying goodbye."

Al smeared butter on his toast, and decided to add his two cents. "Doesn't matter. She's already gone, and she's been gone for a while. Nasty people are out at this time of day. I reckon no one would mess with her."

"You mean you wouldn't mess with her," interjected Tom. "Still, she could get hurt, maybe worse."

Greg nodded grimly and cleared his dishes. "We should go look for her."

Tom swallowed and followed Greg to the sink. "Well that's nice. So you don't know why she left, or where she could be, and you're going to start looking anywhere you can think of, in the hopes that you'll magically bump into her in the process?"

"Well you don't have to be so cynical about it," chided Anya. "That's not going to help us find Abby."

"He's right though." Greg stated simply. "I haven't the faintest idea of where she might be, but she looked for me when she thought I was missing. Now, I wasn't, but she is. And since we're all we have left now, we've got to help each other. So Tom, you going to help me find Abby?"

Tom nodded and reluctantly followed Greg. "It's not like I have anything better to do," he explained. "Hey diva, hands off the doc or you're dead," he casually whispered to Al, on his way out.

"We'll come back at sundown. There's no point looking for her if we can't see anything."

Suddenly a scream resounded off the wall that could only have come from Sarah, who had not touched her now-cold toast or dealt with her plate. "NAJ!!!! Get this – this, THING away from me!!"

Al and Anya both stared at Naj, wondering what the topic of the latest Sarah emotional breakdown was, and what well-mannered Naj possibly had to do with it. He shrugged with a mischievous grin. "The chickens escaped." He got up from the table, whistling, and innocently cleared Sarah's dishes along with his own.

"Just a minute, Sarah, I've got something more important to do." Naj called up the stairs to a distressed Sarah. Winking at Anya, he picked up a hen that had been lurking under the table and carried her to the chicken enclosure. As he plopped her down in the grassy fence area, he murmured possible names for her. "Willow, Haven, Lily, Brisa..."

As soon as Naj had left, Al cleared his dishes and fled from the room, leaving Anya on her own. Little did Anya know, he was following Tom's instructions. She cleaned up her own dishes, and Abby's as well.

"Hey Naj, would you like to feed this toast to your chickens?" offered Anya, bringing it out to him.

Naj smiled and took the toast gratefully. There was one chicken, a rooster, who stood at attention once he saw the treat.

Anya grinned at the chicken and asked Naj, "Is it okay if I give the toast to the chicken? You haven't rescued Sarah yet."

Naj's eyes widened and he gave Anya the toast before he bounded into the house.

Anya smiled at the now curious rooster that was still sitting so stiffly in front of her. "Sarge," she declared, as she threw a piece of Abby's toast at him.

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_Author's Note: Only one more chapter left! Hope you like it! =)_


	3. Chapter 3: The Football Nightmare

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and sticking with me so far. :) This is the final chapter to the Nightmares and Naivety Series. Reviews are always appreciated, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, especially if they come with constructive criticism. =)_

_**NOTE: This chapter is a bit violent, and there are some parts that are pretty scary. (it's part of Abby's dream) That's why I rated it Teen. If you are frightened easily, please don't read this. Thanks for your understanding. =)**  
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Survivors Fanfic - **"Nightmares and Naivety"** Part III

"The Football Nightmare"

Abby regained her composure and continued driving, listening to a cheerful, bubbly track on a CD that had been inside the car she had taken from that woman...Abby shuddered when she remembered running out of fuel in the middle of nowhere, and having to steal a car with a dead woman in it, her lifeless eyes staring up at her, but not seeing anything...Abby told herself that the woman wouldn't mind her taking her car, since she obviously didn't need it anymore, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that she had done wrong by taking from someone living or dead. When Naj had asked her if she thought the people that had previously lived in the house minded that the survivors lived in now, Abby told him no, but had her doubts.

Abby sighed. Even with the happy, carefree music she was playing, nothing she could do would make her think of anything happy. If she turned it on, she would think about how she had stolen the car. If she left it off, the memories of her nightmare would plague her until she could sleep no more. The dream she'd had last night was the scariest, most horrific nightmare ever. But she'd had it before. When she found out she was pregnant with Peter, the day he was born, the day he was diagnosed...Abby had become reacquainted with this dream, as if it were an old enemy. She called this dream "the football nightmare."

She had not really lied to Greg when she'd told him her recurring nightmares had ended. After the virus, whenever Abby closed her eyes she would be searching for Peter in a void of darkness, screaming his name as she passed all-too-familiar sights only to fruitlessly give up, over and over again. That was how the dream always ended, with her giving up. The football nightmare was different. Worse. This time, she'd actually found him.

_Peter was not ten feet away from her, playing happily with the other boys. Football, Peter's favourite. Abby was crouched in the bushes, watching her son so intently, breathing in his every move. Peter grinned to himself slyly and his darling dimples showed on his focused face, he had a plan. Handling the ball expertly, just as David had taught him, Peter shot the ball through the legs of one of the other team's defenders and sprinted across the field to the other side, where the goalie trembled in anticipation. Peter had a breakaway. _

_Abby cheered her son on from her hiding spot, and was amused at his mask of sheer courage and determination as he drew closer to the goalie. You'd have never guessed he was a frightened, sickly little boy with leukemia now. He was as fit and healthy as Abby had ever seen him. Better, even. _

_Peter smiled triumphantly; everything was going according to plan. Preparing a mighty kick, he drew his right leg backwards and began to slow majestically as he aimed the ball. Abby raised her fists into the air, prepared to let loose a screech in support of her son._

_Then, suddenly, there was a kink in the plan. Peter stopped in his tracks. His skin colour started to change to a sallow yellow, and beads of sweat started appearing, layering over mysterious bruises that had not been there a moment before. Abby's eyes widened as she watched what was happening to her son. Abby hoped it wasn't what she thought it was...Peter blinked a few times in stunned surprise and scratched his head, puzzled. Except, when he scratched his head, a huge clump of his hair came out. _

_Abby and Peter both gasped at the same time. They both knew exactly what was happening. Abby had made Peter recite the warning signs over and over again. _

_Peter was relapsing, at a ridiculously accelerated rate. In Abby's attempt to run down to be by her son's side, she was stopped abruptly. Looking down in bewilderment, she noticed in horror that she had been handcuffed to the large tree beside her, and was unable to move. _

_The concerned mother pulled away with all her might, but the strong metal would not give way. She was absolutely powerless to help her son. Abby looked up to find her son again but when she turned, her area of vision was clogged by a very large man. Suddenly Abby recognized him from the photo she had seen. Phil Emerson. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, trying to intimidate her. It didn't work. All Abby cared about was Peter, who was not faring well at that point. She craned her neck to check on him and gasped when she saw the extent of his suffering. _

_"PETER!" Abby screamed, but he couldn't hear her. He was so close and yet so far away..._

_Peter looked so frightened and was now turning gray. He had huge bags under his eyes, bruises everywhere, and no hair. He looked so small and frail, just as he had when he was in the hospital. He wore a grimace of pain and moaned softly, just loud enough for Abby to hear. When Peter dropped to his knees and fell face down in the grass, Abby screamed so loud she thought her lungs would burst. _

_"NO! PETER!" _

_Looking up at the smirking Emerson who was holding her hostage, she yelled hysterically, "Let me go to him! He needs a doctor! Save him! He's my son...He's my son..."_

_Emerson smiled evilly, which frustrated Abby even more. Then he picked her up, uprooted the tree she was handcuffed too as well. Abby fought as hard as she could, but the man had an iron grip. _

_Then he put her on the sideline, just out of reach of Peter, and still weighted down by the tree. So that she could watch him suffer a long and painful death, right before her eyes. He laughed maniacally, paying no attention to Abby's desperate wails. She pulled as hard as she could away from the tree, and called her son's name, but it was no use. _

_Just then, a dull rumble came up from the other end of the pitch. It was the other boys, both teams, pounding down the field like their lives depended on it. Except they were all clones of the same person. Abby stared wide-eyed at fifteen Najids wearing identical soccer uniforms, each emblazoned with a double zero. They all wore a stoic mask of concentration as they trampled over objects in their path like a herd of elephants. Abby turned back to Peter's limp body. It was a human stampede, about to crush her son._

_"NAJ! Don't! Please! Not my son...not Peter!" Abby begged incessantly, like a broken record, but with no avail. They just kept coming..._

_all her strength, Abby tried to crawl over to where her son lay, so she could pull him out of the way, but the massive tree would not budge. And then, Abby watched in horror as her son's lifeless body was tossed around like a worthless rag doll, and thirty cleats trampled all over him. She heard a loud, sickening crack and a blood curdling scream that had to be Peter's. The Najs laughed as they killed him, it was a game to them._

_"MUM! MUM!"_

_Abby buried her head in her hands and cried until she could have spent enough tears for two lifetimes. When she no longer heard the malicious laughs of the Najs, or the horrifying cries from Peter, Abby turned back to the tree that held her captive and realized that the handcuffs binding her were gone. The Najs had formed a circle around Peter, and stood as still as statues, waiting._

_Abby crawled, her eyes blurred with tears, until she reached her little boy. His pained, stricken expression was permanently etched on his normally peaceful face, for there had been no peace in his death. _

The overwhelming fear in his eyes had burned into Abby's mind, even once she had awakened the first time she'd had the dream, twelve years ago. The only thing that was different this time was that the football players had Naj's face, and the human obstacle was Phil Emerson. Everything else had been exactly the same. That didn't make it any less scary. Upon waking from the nightmare, all she could feel was guilt, because she had been powerless to save her son, yet she had been right there. She felt as if she had failed as a parent by not keeping him safe, even if it was in a dream. And because they had been separated as a result of the virus, Abby feared that something like that would actually happen to him, and she wouldn't know because she was so far away.

Abby pulled over by the side of the road so she could cry properly, now that there was no one around. No one except Greg knew about her nightmares, but she'd never told him about the football nightmare. She hoped to keep it that way. If the others relied on her to the extent that they did, like Greg said, Abby had to be strong and fearless, and put their needs before her own. She feared the others would distance themselves from her if they knew that she wasn't as strong or as brave and tough as they thought she was. They all suffered...Abby knew that. They just didn't know each other well enough to take comfort in confiding in each other.

Take Abby for example; the others knew she was missing her son Peter, but they didn't know he was afraid of the dark, terrified of spiders, homesickness and getting lost in the supermarket. They didn't know Peter suffered from leukemia, that his mother had become a hypochondriac on his "behalf," and stressed so much about him that she had suffered a miscarriage the year he was diagnosed. They didn't know he was a bright, talented, brave young boy who had stared death in the face and never blinked. And they probably didn't know that his parents, especially his mum, would literally do anything for him.

Abby didn't know the others as well as she'd like to either; she didn't even know what Greg did for a living before the virus, or how Al got to be so rich, or what Naj's childhood was like before he was forced to grow up prematurely, as a result of the virus. Don't ask, don't tell just isn't going to work. It's too close to "every man for himself."

She wondered what the others had lost, the things they had seen, and what they had been forced to forget. It was narcissistic of her to think that she suffered any worse than they did. Maybe they could help each other, move on and ease each other's suffering. They had survived the virus, but life was more important that surviving; one had to live. And one can't live if one is grieving. They would have to learn to trust each other, plain and simple.

Abby thought it over before she was interrupted by a siren that was coming from a large building she had never seen before...

THE END

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_Author's Note: Well, that's it! I hope you liked it! :) Now watch the pendulum: *review...review...please review...*_


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